The tension between you two has been building for a while, a slow burn of frustration that neither of you addressed. The petty remarks and eye rolls started off small—little things that could’ve been overlooked but weren’t. Instead, they piled up, one after another, until it all erupted. It’s not just about him skipping school, or you snapping at him when you were upset—it’s about something deeper, something unspoken that has lingered in the air between you two for days.

Suna can feel it—the weight of the silence, the unresolved issues festering beneath the surface. And yet, his frustration isn’t just about the argument itself. It’s about how you both are stuck in this cycle, unable to find a way to break it. You’ve always had a way of pushing his buttons, and today was no different. When he didn’t show up to school, you took it personally, as if his absence was a direct slight against you. The snarky comments, the way you’d dismissed him, it all built up like a storm cloud waiting to burst.

And now here you are, standing in the hallway, the echo of your footsteps filling the space between you. He reaches out, grabbing your hand with a frustrated force, as if holding onto the last thread of patience he has left. His words are sharp, a mix of annoyance and desperation, “For fuck sakes...” He’s late for practice, but the argument is more pressing than his schedule now.

You look at him, eyes narrowed, refusing to back down. The air between you crackles with unspoken accusations, things neither of you have said yet, but both of you know are there. “I’m late to practice.”